These men and their horses wore protective gear, making them much better prepared for desert fighting. The horses showed a bit of lather but did not appear as winded as the horse beneath Catrin. Vertook shouted and turned east, pushing their mount to the limit. Catrin was humbled by the dedication and courage of the Arghast horses, who gave all they had. Feeling such affection and gratitude for the mount that was so valiantly bearing her and Vertook, she placed her hand on the horse's croup behind the saddle, and unaware, her emotions-love, peace, and energy-flowed from her hand into the horse. As she touched him, her hand grew hot, and a tingling pulsated in her palm. The horse seemed to respond to her gentle touch and was rejuvenated. It leaped ahead of the horses surrounding it.
Vertook slowed his mount to let the others make up the ground he had gained. The approaching Zjhon formed into a tight wedge and closed at great speed, making Catrin wonder if this was where the fighting would truly begin. It was terrifying and she could not envision it.
The tension in the air was palpable, and she could hear little above the muted thunder of hooves pounding the sand. No one spoke, shouted, or cried out. It was eerie and unnerving, and Catrin could feel the hair on her arms and neck stand on end. The approaching Zjhon were mostly armed with swords, but a few carried bows. The Arghast were armed with wooden spears, and they looked puny beside the cold iron.
Vertook desperately sought to evade the menacing wedge, but it continued to grow closer. The low din was shattered when the Zjhon overtook them, cries of man and horse ringing above the muted thunder, accompanied by metal striking hardened wood. Catrin ducked under a sword as it whistled by her head and was still off balance when a soldier slammed his mount into hers. She was nearly knocked from the saddle by the impact and leaned out perilously to one side as Vertook smashed the soldier across the face with the butt of his spear.
As she straightened in the saddle, Catrin caught a glimpse of Cheslo and Benjin. She screamed as she saw them collide, at full speed, with a Zjhon soldier. She watched in horror as all three went down, and she was unable to distinguish anything in the chaos. The Zjhon were trying to divide the Arghast to deal with them individually, and they were doing an alarmingly good job of it. Vertook and Catrin were forced away from the others and found themselves surrounded by Zjhon.
Riding behind a man whose name he did not know and whose dialect he did not seem to speak, Chase watched Benjin go down. He thought he saw Catrin nearby. A Zjhon soldier was bearing down on Benjin, and at the same time, at least a dozen were going after Catrin. Time seemed to slow as Chase was torn by a decision that must be made in an instant; there was no time for debate or second thoughts. He yanked on the shoulder of the man in front of him, pointing and screaming, and by the mercy of the gods, the tribal leader turned his horse toward where Benjin had fallen. Chase cursed and climbed to one side of the horse. Putting his right leg in the left stirrup, he coiled his muscles like a snake about to strike. An instant before a Zjhon blade would take Benjin's life, Chase jumped.
Osbourne cried out as one of his boots slipped from the stirrup, only Spenwar's firm grip kept him from tumbling to the sand. Riders came from all directions, and it was difficult to tell friend from foe, but when a horse materialized from the dust bearing two riders, he knew it was one of his friends. Strom roared as they passed, throwing what looked like a pear at an oncoming Zjhon horse. The fruit struck the horse in the forehead, startling the animal while it was at a full gallop. The horse and its helpless rider veered sideways and crashed into another Zjhon soldier.
Osbourne would have cheered the victory, but more riders came, and he followed Strom's lead. He opened one of the pouches along the saddle and found soft cheeses wrapped in broad, supple leaves. Knowing they would have no need for food if they did not first escape, he took half of them and began throwing them at approaching Zjhon riders. Though he was aiming for the horses' eyes, he often missed, but one bundle of cheese struck a Zjhon soldier in the face and exploded on impact.
The blinded soldier dropped his reins and tried to clear the cheese from his eyes, but the cheese clung to his skin and lashes, and sand began to collect on it, making matters worse. Unprepared when his horse suddenly veered around a fallen rider, the soldier flew from the saddle and plowed face-first into the sand. Osbourne let out a brief cheer just before a Zjhon horse struck them broadside and at full speed. As the world tumbled around him, Osbourne gave thanks for all that life had given him.
Activity to Catrin's right caught her attention, and she turned to see what was happening. The Arghast had adapted quickly and were using the Zjhon's ramming technique against them. She watched, horrified, as the Arghast crashed recklessly into the Zjhon. One horse caught her attention as it bowled over an unsuspecting Zjhon soldier, its second passenger taking down the Zjhon with his staff. Nat howled, wide eyed, like a man possessed as he searched for a new foe.
Catrin recognized Irvil of the Sun clan, who rode before Nat. Irvil attacked with a fury, driving his horse into the Zjhon, thrashing them with his spears, and yelling exultantly whenever Nat landed a blow. They cleared a hole in the Zjhon line just large enough for them to break free. Vertook and Irvil urged their horses on, and somehow the marvelous beasts found their wind. They surged ahead of the pursuing Zjhon and thundered toward the rocky borderland where a sparse forest skirted the cliffs.
Vertook let Irvil and Nat lead since only Nat knew their destination. Catrin could see several Zjhon closing in from behind. She feared their swords, but the men armed with bows terrified her more. Her back exposed, she felt naked and vulnerable and continued to watch for arrows, but the archers were out of bow range and had loosed none, which only increased her terror. Skilled archers would not waste arrows on bad shots, and these men seemed prepared to wait.
As the land sloped upward, stunted trees grew thick, stinging with their branches, and loose rock shifted under hooves. The trail became as much an adversary as the Zjhon, and the nearly spent horses struggled with the terrain.
A sharp crack sounded from behind, followed by sickening thud, and as Catrin spun around, she saw a horse go down, its leg shattered. The flailing animal tumbled down the rocks, taking two others and their riders with it. Irvil struggled to outrun the remaining Zjhon, following a winding path that was barely more than a game trail. Low-hanging branches assaulted them, and brambles clung, biting deep. Catrin counted four Zjhon remaining, and she shouted to Irvil, urging him on, but he was hard pressed, and despite his best efforts, the Zjhon were making better time. All they could do was press on as relentlessly as they could.
Irvil barked a warning, and Vertook veered away from a hornets' nest so large it covered the tree that hosted it. Catrin watched as the Zjhon grew closer to the nest; then, in one fluid motion, she drew her knives and launched them at the nest.
Her old belt knife with the broken tip flew wide, striking only bark, but in the next instant, her Zjhon blade struck home, exploding the nest into a cloud of paper and enraged hornets. Moving like an angry specter with a shared life, the mass descended on the Zjhon with unmitigated fury.